


It's you who are the reason the stars fall from the sky

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [70]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A Very Becho Valentine, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Children, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, there is nothing other than fluff here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: After years of struggle, sacrifice, and heartache Bellamy has found a slice of heaven.





	It's you who are the reason the stars fall from the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_a_total_basket_case](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_a_total_basket_case/gifts).



> For Elyse (raven-reyes-of-sunshine on Tumblr) who wanted some fluffy fluff for her Valentine's.   
> This fic was written for the A Very Becho Valentine Gift Exchange hosted on Tumblr and is, both thematically and setting, completely outside of my comfort zone- (no, nobody dies in this one)   
>  Hope you enjoy it!

Echo smirks, moves to the side and hooks her left leg behind his right knee. Bellamy's stance is not good enough and, when his knee buckles; he crashes to the ground, but not before grabbing her shirt, bringing her down with him.

She lands on her hip with a grunt, and he wastes no time in pushing her over. She might be a better the fighter, but he is physically stronger, and brute force can do wonders when used right.

He straddles her, pinning her arms over her head with his hands and her legs with his feet. “What now, huh?”

Echo buckles and squirms under him for a second. Her caramel eyes sparkling and brow beaded with sweat.

He can see the exact moment she decides there is no getting away from the way she forces her body to relax, juts her chin, and twists her lips into a crooked smile.

“Do you yield?”

Echo purrs, twisting her hands enough to entwine their fingers and pushes up to kiss him. She tastes of sweat and minty black tea, of strawberry lip balm and home. Bellamy could get lost forever in the softness of her lips, the warmth of her undulating body and coarseness of her strong hands.

He deepens the kiss, dragging a low moan out of her, her hip comes up, rubbing deliciously against him and his blood sings. He lets go of her left hand to cup her beautiful face, his thumb stroking the proud arch of her cheekbone. The sound she makes is like a drug he will never get used to.

Somewhere an alarm clock rings and Echo groans. Her head falls on the mat, haloed by auburn and silver hair. "Time is up."

Bellamy pouts. He wants to stay here, at this moment, forever. Still, he stands and helps her up. It never ceases to amaze him, to how well her hand fits in his, like it was made do be there: those long fingers and delicate wrist with the one thousand little scars and the raised veins molded to wrap around his rough skin. Echo laughs when he kisses her fingers, brushing his hair out of his face, and pecking him on the lips before going to switch the alarm off.

Bellamy turns to open the window, cold winter air swiping into the basement, rolling around the basement they've converted into their private gym.

Together they climb the stairs – he needs to fix the squeaky third step this weekend- into the kitchen — the chilly winter sun streaming through the windows, casting everything in a warm golden light.

Over the years since Echo moved in, the house has stopped looking as shabby, and run-down as it did when he was a child. The renovations are slow-going, it seems like there’s always something new that needs changing – the counters in the kitchen really need to be replaced at some point.

The hall never looked this bright or thins warm when he was a kid: the peeling brown-greenish paint made it look stuffy and small; the groaning staircase an ever-present ghost. Now, the walls are decked in framed memories: their date at the zoo, at the premiere of the last Harry Potter movie, dressed in fatigues with their squad, Murphy's birthday, at the inauguration of Raven's shop. Him dancing with Octavia at his wedding; in the hospital, little Amanda cradled in Echo's arms; Luke and Gus’ second birthday; Amanda at twelve with her friends at the bowling alley; Echo, heavy with child at her baby shower-

They are running out of space for all the happy memories they’ve amassed over the last twenty years.

Bellamy reaches the landing,

The door to their daughter’s room, covered in "keep out," "mad scientist at work – enter at your own risk" and "danger of death" signs, is open, but the teen’s still sleeping. In the room next to it, he can hear Echo waking the twins. Bellamy goes into his and Echo’s bedroom to shower. After so many years, they have the routine down to a tee:

They train for an hour in the mornings, then he'll shower while Echo wakes up the kids and prepares breakfast, he’ll give little Chris his baby food while the children finish up, and then he’ll drive Amanda, Gus, and Luke to school.

Like every Thursday, Emori is perched on one of the kitchen counters when he brings Chris down. Dressed in the dark gray headscarf Echo gave her for her birthday two years ago, a flowery dress and combat boots she sips her extra-strong, extra-dark, soul-sucking coffee from a steaming Donald Duck mug. Echo is packing their kids' lunch.

“Hey, Ems.”

“Good morning, Bell,” she smiles and coos at Chris, while the rest of the kids file slowly into the room. At twelve Gus and Luke adore their aunt Emori and her mellowed down and beautified tales of teenage vandalism. "I was telling Echo, I'll come around eight tonight." Her dark slanted eyes wander to the twins, "and we'll order pizza and watch the latest Spider-man movie." Stage-whispering she leans forward. “And eat microwave popcorn.”

The boys chuckle around their cereal, clearly excited about the novelty of watching a movie on a weeknight.

“Don’t you an Murphy have plans tonight?”

Emori arches an eyebrow. “On Valentine’s? No. That's the night we pick you fools clean. So we can have our romantic getaway this weekend.”

“Where are you going?”

“New York. I got him tickets to see The Little Mermaid.”

“Oh, he’s going faint when you tell him,” chuckles Bellamy.

“Probably,” smirks Emori. At the kitchen table Luke and Gus laugh, and Amanda leaves her plate in the sink. “Mom?” she says, staring straight ahead. “I have plans tonight.”

"Yeah, I know," answers Echo, straightening her daughter's collar much to the teen's mortification. "That's why I asked aunt Emori to come to watch your brothers."

“How…?”

“We’ve all been sixteen, Amy. We’ve all snuck around.“

“Plus you are not the only teenager I have parented,” chuckles Bellamy. “I know all your tells.”

“Next time, though, you ask for our permission beforehand. Am I clear?”

Amanda looks down at her socked feet. “Yes, sorry, mom.”

Echo brushes the hair out of Amanda’s face and pecks her cheek. “Now go fetch your things. And you two, hurry up, or you'll be late for school."

Five minutes later Bellamy kisses his wife goodbye and pulls off the driveway with a car full of chatty children. Next year Chris will join the gang. And the year after that Amanda will start her last school year. And then it will be off to college with her, and the house will be a little quieter, a little sadder, a little prouder.

Bellamy can't believe how much his children have grown, how beautiful and kind and funny and smart they are.

He pulls into the teacher’s parking lot, and off they go before he has even time to wish them a good day.

He watches Luke and Gus join a group of classmates and Amanda take the hand of her partner. This, this feeling he has right here, right now, this must be what heaven feels like.

 

***

 

The day goes by in a blur of classes and papers, a long staff meeting and unruly children's pranks.

During the afternoons, the house is silent, Echo being the one who takes the kids to their extracurricular classes so that he can have time to grade and prepare next day's lessons.

His and his wife's office is on the ground floor, a small room adjacent to the living room, lined with bookcases, shelves bent under the weight of books and little trinkets. Two desks stand in the middle of the room, Echo's computer humming, the unsaved document still open on her desktop. Bellamy presses the "save" key before switching the monitor off and leaving his briefcase on his desk.

Before sitting down to work, he does the routine check of the children’s bathroom to fetch the laundry basket.

They’ve made it a point to not interfere in their kid’s rooms, to have them pick after themselves and make their beads. Which means Amanda’s is a mess 90% of the time, and Luke and Gus’ is a deathtrap of Legos, plushies – they have way too many stuffed animals – and books.

With the sound of the washing machine in the distance, and accompanied by the hum of Echo’s computer, Bellamy sits down at his desk and starts reading his fourth graders’ English homework.

Amanda arrives at six from her taekwondo class and vanishes into her room with a loud "Dad; I am home!" Bellamy sets down the essay about how cool Ronny's pet turtle is to take care of the laundry. At six thirty, Luke and Gus help Echo unload the groceries.

He leans against the doorframe watching Echo put things away, expertly navigating a kitchen full of chatty children, toddlers, and bags. It doesn't matter how long they live together, how often he sees her, how messy or silver-streaked her hair is. Every time he looks at her, Bellamy feels the same deep, burning love he felt when he first fell in love with her, his hands still itch to touch her, his body longs to hold her.

“Why don’t you go get ready while I finish up here? I need to take a shower before we go.”

Bellamy smiles. Echo doesn't even turn; she just knows he's there. He is about to leave when Amanda suddenly appears at her side, and his jaw goes slack. Can this young woman really be his baby girl? "Honey, you look amazing."

Amanda blushes to the roots of her black and purple-died hair, the freckles she inherited from him standing out on her fine-boned face. She has made an effort to comb her mess of curls, piling it high on her head. Wrapped in her favorite black lace dress and the fishnet stocking with the weird snake-scale pattern he doesn't really like, turquoise eye shadow and dark lipstick, she looks all grown up.

“Oh!” Echo wanders over to their daughter, straightening her faux-diamond earrings, the softest smile on her full lips. “My little baby girl, look at you!”

“Mom,” groans the teen. “Stop it; I’m gonna be late.”

“Ok. But first, ground rules.”

Amanda heaves an exaggerated sigh, while Echo goes on her practiced tirade: “If you need anything, we will have our phones on us at all times, ok? If you feel uncomfortable, or if you’re having a bad time, or-“

“I get it, mom. Relax. This is not the first date I go on with Nikko.”

"Any a date can go south no matter how often you go out with that person."

“Yeah, you have no idea how often I want to ditch your mom during dates.” Amanda snorts at his attempts at comedy, Echo’s arched eyebrow isn’t as kind.

“Ok, I promise I’ll call you if I need to bail. Can I go now?”

Bellamy and Echo follow her into the hall. On the small cupboard next to the front door she has her tiny sequin purse. “Not so quick, young lady," says Echo, opening the cupboard. Amanda groans pinching the bridge of her nose. "First of all, safety."

“Are you carrying condoms?”

“DAD!”

“We all know how a date can end, and we have had this conversation before.”

Amanda’s blush is a deep scarlet now. “Yes,” she mumbles under her breath, “I have some in my purse.”

"Good. As long as you are safe, that is everything I will ever want to know about that."

With flaming cheeks, Amanda turns away only to find her mother holding her sequin clutch with a self-satisfied smile. Uneasy, the teen takes the offered bag. "What the hell did you put in here? It weighs a ton."

“Protection.”

“Mom you know pepper-spray and switchblades are forbidden in this state, right?”

Echo hums in agreement. “Indeed they are, but do you know what isn’t?” Bellamy leans over Amanda’s shoulder to look into the clutch and bites back a chuckle. “A wooden Bible.”

Echo crosses her arms across her chest with a smug smile. Amanda stares. "Are you kidding me?"

Indeed, there is a pocket-sized, wood-cover book carefully stashed between her phone and wallet.

"I never joke regarding safety, baby."

Amanda stutters. "How do we even own this?"

“Your uncle Roan brought it back from Jerusalem.”

“Mom, I am not hauling a wooden Bible around!" protests Amanda as her date knocks on the front door.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Amanda, only the covers are wooden. Now, if someone were to attack you," says Echo while opening the door to their daughter's black-clad date. "You make sure they get the Holly Word up. Hi, Nikko.”

"Good evening, Mrs. Linna-Blake."

Mortified, Amanda closes her purse and elbows her way up to her date. “Ok, can I leave now? Please?”

"Not yet, honey," says Bellamy. "Normally, your curfew is ten o'clock. But, since your grades have been good, and you haven’t vandalized any classrooms!”

“That was last week, Dad!” shout two indignant voices from the kitchen.

“We have decided that you can come home at eleven.”

"No way! Really?"

“That means at eleven o’clock you must be _inside_ the house. Emori will text if you aren't and we will go ruin your date if you aren't here at eleven on the dot."

“Thank you guys!” she hugs Nikko instead of them, but Bellamy still smirks at his wife.

“Ok, now before you leave, we need a picture.”

Nikko and Amanda turn towards Bellamy’s waiting phone.

“Hold up the Holy Word, hon,” says Echo, which means the first picture is of a confused-looking Nikko and a laughing Amanda. The second is more respectable and dull, the two teens embracing and smiling.

They watch Amanda and Nikko walking hand in hand down to the battered blue sedan parked on their driveway, Bellamy’s arm around his wife’s waist, relishing in the way she leans into him, the warmth of her body and the smell of her shampoo – peach and honey. “Maybe we should follow them? Make sure they are safe?”

Echo huffs. "I am not spending my monthly date night at McDonald's. I was promised fancy sushi and overpriced wine, and that is what I'll get." When the car drives away, Echo turns in his arms. "If we don't get a move on, we'll be late."

She tows him up the stairs and into the bathroom, which is a mistake, since they end up getting distracted and have to rush out of the warm spray when Emori shouts that she’s here.

"Down in a minute!" calls Bellamy, his eyes following the movement of a towel-clad Echo as she rolls her dark stockings over her endless legs. They are going to be really late for their reservation, but his hands fumble uselessly with his tie, eyes fixed on the soft folds of Echo's favorite burgundy dress as it slides down her body. When she steps into his space to help with the rebellious knot, he's painfully aware of how horny he is already. Judging from Echo's naughty smile, she is, too.

"There, now you look like a respectable man" she runs her long fingers through his curls.

“What would I do without you.”

“Be on time, probably.”

And what else can he do, then kiss that smugness off her full lips?

Downstairs Emori and the twins are sitting on the couch, little Chris on his aunt's knees while his brothers' prattle on about their day.

“Wow, you two clean up nicely.”

They kiss their children goodbye, make sure to leave money for the delivery guy and hurry out only twenty minutes behind schedule.

 

***

 

Aurora Blake used to say that love was nothing more than a pretty fantasy to trick idiots. "You fuck love until it disappears and then you move on to the next candidate. Trying to hold onto it is a pointless exercise, like trying to grab water with your bare hands. Only idiots try it and they all end the same: wet and disappointed."

For a long time, Bellamy believed her. And he tried not to fall in love; he tried to make Aurora proud not being a brainless imbecile, ruled by his cock.

When he did fall, he fell hard and unconditionally. Like everything else he did, he threw his whole being into it, loving selflessly and wholeheartedly. He burned with it so much it hurt and, every time it ended; they took something from him, something inside him broke a little, proving his mom right. Over and over.

And then Echo smashed into his life. An unstoppable force of nature, like a tsunami or a hurricane: powerful, and beautiful and as broken as he was.

Echo wasn't his 'type,' and he never expected to fall in love with her. She wasn't blinding and all-powerful, she didn't shine like the sun or own everything she set her eyes on. She didn't demand he raises her up, didn’t tear him down or burn him whenever he tried to hold her. Instead, she always tugs him close when he has nightmares, she pushes him to be better, pulls him to always stand right at her side. Echo is vulnerable, and kind, and harsh, and unforgiving, and soft. She brings the best out of him and works every day to be better for him. She his equal and no matter how loudly they shout at each other, no matter how painful their words, or how unmountable the obstacles they find on their path, at the end of the day, there is nothing they can’t overcome.

Sitting across from her at the little table, candlelight glinting on the silver streaks in her hair and her wedding band, he can barely believe that he would ever find someone to be his equal, someone to be his partner in every sense of the word.

Bellamy licks his lips, trying to concentrate on using his silverware, working hard not to stare at the way she's pulling the chopsticks out of her mouth; the delectable shadows her eyelashes cast on her proud cheekbones, at the demure and innocent expression on her face while her foot travels expertly up and down the inside of his leg.

When she looks up, and the light catches her caramel eyes, his brain short-circuits, and his own chopsticks crash on the china bowl. Her smile is positively sinful.

“Everything alright here?” asks the young waitress appearing out of nowhere to mortify him. Echo kneads her toes on his pants.

“Everything is delicious, thank you.”

Bellamy waits until the woman leaves before sliding his hand under the tablecloth to catch her ankle. “You are a minx.”

Echo smirks, casting her eyes around the room. It’s full of romantic partners feeding each other and making heart eyes at each other. “We should go dancing. That place Miller talked about is not far.”

He runs his knuckles over the bridge of her food making her jump.

“You want to skip dessert?”

Two tables down, a young mustached man proposes to his partner. Part of the restaurant cheers and Echo blushes with second-hand embarrassment. "Dessert first. Then dancing."

Aurora was wrong. Love does exist, and it doesn't need to hurt, it doesn't demand he gives his up his life, it doesn't get used up, or slip between his fingers.

It burns in his soul like the warm ambers of a hearth, keeping him warm and keeping him alive.

He kisses her pulse on the inside of her wrist, mainly because he can, but partially to nibble on the soft skin there.

“As my lady commands.”

**Author's Note:**

> This thing was - of course -unbeta'd.  
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting.


End file.
